Theresa Williams-Author [Exile Edition]

Interview with Alain de Botton

2011-07-18T03:15:00.000-04:00

From an interview with Alain de Botton:

What was your childhood like?

Generally troubled. My parents didn't especially like me, which left me with a feeling of unworthiness and self-doubt.

How did it shape you?

It made me want to express myself and give a voice to precious things that had been silenced.

http://www.marcopoloquarterly.com/interviewbotton.html

Found

2011-06-08T00:45:00.000-04:00

Found tonight a poem about one of my favorite writers, by one of my favorite writers:

Carson McCullers

she died of alcoholism
wrapped in a blanket
on a deck chair
on an ocean
steamer.

all her books of
terrified loneliness

all her books about
the cruelty
of loveless love

were all that was left
of her

as the strolling vacationer
discovered her body
notified the captain

and she was quickly dispatched
to somewhere else
on the ship

as everything
continued just
as
she had written it

Charles Bukowski

Clothes shopping and boots

2011-02-20T01:49:00.002-05:00

Just remembered that I've been having a lot of dreams lately about clothes shopping and boots. Shopping in expensive places (although sometimes places like Kohls or Sears). Looking at exotic wear, especially boots. Very fancy ones, platform boots.

Odd, since I don't much enjoy clothes shopping.

In the Mail

2011-02-19T22:01:00.000-05:00

First: three new haibun accepted by Contemporary Haibun Online, due out in April: "Once and for All," "In Repair," and "Taos Pueblo." And my haibun "The First Cold Nights" just came out in the Winter issue of Frogpond.

And, speaking of Frogpond, in the mail this week I got my first-ever copy. Of course I've read it before but had never subscribed until now. (I always subscribe to magazines that publish me; these magazines need our support so they can continue to publish others.)

Frogpond is the journal of the Haiku Society of America. You can find out more about Frogpond by going here: http://www.hsa-haiku.org/frogpond/index.html

Frogpond is filled with haiku, haibun, rengay, renku, essays, and book reviews. Some of the haiku from this issue I particularly liked were:

thaw
the snowman waters
the crocus

(John J. Dunphy)

sunset
warmth from within
the egg

(Johnette Downing)

Maybe it's that I have spring and warmth on my mind, but I think these are really fine examples of haiku. Both stir with the promise of new life.

Dr. Randy Brooks of Millikin University has an essay called "Genesis of Haiku: Where Do Haiku Come From?" I appreciate his point about haiku as a "collaborative co-creative act." He discusses how much active participation is required on the part of the reader to interpret and enjoy haiku.

There were so many exceptional haibun in this issue. (I confess to having a personal preference for haibun). I loved them all and look forward to savoring each again (and again). Upon first read, two of my favorites are "Home" by John Stevenson and "Not Amused" by Ray Rasmussen. "Home" is a complex story of loss, accomplished in so few lines as to be astonishing to me. "Not Amused" is--well--a somewhat amusing take on loss. Every loss has its sadness, but "Not Amused" takes the edge off the sadness with touches of irony, perfectly rendered.

Also in the mail, two chapbooks by Red Shuttleworth, a gift from Red Shuttleworth, each signed by the author:

To Theresa,
a kindred spirit
Best Wishes,
Red

To Theresa
Some chaos from
Western roads.
Best Wishes
Red

Red's previous work has received a Spur Ward from Western Writers of America. He's been published in some of the great little mags, such as Concho River Review, Rattle, and Zone 3. Rattle is a great favorite of mine. If you have access to it, read it.

I just received Red's poems today, but an early favorite is "At the Crest of Longing" in which a blackbird commits suicide during a wedding reception in Broken Bow and Beefalo burger is "on sale down the street."

THANKS, RED!

Goings On

2011-02-14T17:22:00.000-05:00

I got up today to Valentine surprises.

Allen had already been to town and bought the balloon (which I found floating up out of the bathtub), the flower, the onions (I love sweet onions--I can eat them like apples. I've always, always loved onions. When I was a baby, and my family was traveling across the country, my mother gave me green onions to suck on to keep me quiet. Allen knows how much I love onions!) He also brought two cream puffs, my favorite pastry, and he's going to cook my supper tonight.

Such goings on.

In other news, I have two non-fiction pieces in an online magazine called Talking Writing. You'll find them here:

http://talkingwriting.com/?p=9663

and here:

http://talkingwriting.com/?p=12419

They've invited me to be a regular contributor. It feels good to be writing essays again. I love Talking Writing, since there's nothing I like talking about better than writing. This magazine is all about "talking" writing, so leave a comment if you feel so moved.

I had a short story published in September 2010 in The Sun.

In April, I'll be flying to San Antonio. I'll be on a creative panel there for the American Culture/Pop Culture conference, reading several of my haibun. Go here: http://twilliams-creative-writing.blogspot.com/ if you want to read some of the haibun. Or click on the Publications Page on this blog.

Such goings on.

Talking Writing

2011-01-04T00:09:00.000-05:00

There's a great new online magazine called Talking Writing. They've posted my piece, "On Writing," which is characteristic of the direction my writing is beginning to take. Those of you who have followed my blog for a long time will recognize many of the concerns and themes. Along with the actual piece is an explanation of how I came to create "On Writing."

If you've ever had doubts about your own writing, this piece may speak to you.

The editors have also included some of my drawings from my letters and journals.

It's so nice to see some of my struggles, first written about here, actually bearing some fruit.

I can feel something turning in me, a new excitement for writing. New ways of seeing and expression.

Do visit Talking Writing and join the conversation.

Happy New Year!

Pillow Book 5: Breakfast Kraut

2010-12-02T02:47:00.000-05:00

What cereals would be called if they had sauerkraut in them:

1. Krautios
2. Kraut Loops
3. Kraut Jacks
4. Kraut Pops
5. Kraut Krispies
6. Kraut Crunch
7. Cap'n Kraut
8. Frosted Mini Kraut
9. Frosted Kraut
10. Shreaded Kraut
11. Kraut Nuts
12. Honey Bunches of Kraut
13. Special K

Pillow Book 4: Lexicon of Rattle

2010-12-02T02:23:00.000-05:00

Words from poems in the most recent edition of Rattle, a poetry magazine:

1. dog
2. bird
3. bone
4. smoke
5. heart
6. shit (more than once); (also: cat poop); (also: pee)
7. living
8. gophers
9. fish (way more than once)
10. bear
11. roots
12. veins
13. world (more than once); (also: earth)
14. breast feeding
15. sleep
16. dead man
17. beauties of ruin
18. love
19. goats
20. Theseus walking threadless into a maze
21. fork
22. rabbit carcasses (also: cadaver dog)
23. artichokes
24. father
25. mouth
26. hands
27. shoes (more than once)
28. brick
29. sun
30. children
31. woman
32. surrender
33. house (more than once) (also: home)
34. time
35. egg
36. sex
37. cigars
38. hell
39. honey
40. heat
41. teacher
42. poem (more than once)
43. bodies (also: body) (more than once)
44. sky
45. hair (more than once)
46. girls (also: boy or boys)
47. deranged
48. hatmakers
49. limbs
50. door
51. darkness
52. beating
53. return
54. eyes
55. song (also: music)
56. deaf
57. tomorrow
58. bathroom
59. table
60. squirrels (more than once)
61. stroke
62. morning
63. umbrella
64. gloves
65. sand
66. ice
67. snow
68. me (way more than once); (also: I)
69. give
70. dream
71. future
72. eyelid
73. veil
74. terrified
75. dust
76. deer
77. afterlife
78. tea
79. blackberries
80. cats
81. hammer
82. rocks
83. cabinent
84. envelope
85. phone (more than once

Pillow Book 3: Warm Things

2010-12-01T21:29:00.000-05:00

1. summer stones and shells
2. compliments (real ones)
3. puppies and babies
4. an unexpected kindness (as when the young woman offers the emaciated Buddha the rice porridge or when the theater troupe offers wild strawberries and milk to the beleaguered Knight in Bergman's The Seventh Seal)
5. shoulder blades, when touched with my cold hand
6. cooing of mourning doves
7. color of a hoodoo or mesa
8. a William Stafford poem
9. berries just off the bush
10. coffee, too long ago poured

Pillow Book 2: Gross Things

2010-11-30T02:04:00.001-05:00

1. hair in food
2. when somebody spits mucus inside buildings (once I found it on the steps in University Hall)
3. when the dog throws up
4. when somebody spills a whole dairy drink inside the elevator or smears boogers on the doors of the elevator (yes, I saw this in East Hall. Recently.)
5. when somebody talks on the phone when they're using the bathroom (sometimes I hear them doing this in public bathrooms). when somebody doesn't wash their hands after using the bathroom.
6. when somebody doesn't flush the toilet
7. food fights
8. anything with Crisco shortening in it
9. the sound our dog (Buddha) makes when he licks himself
10. storebought bread with all the preservatives in it (like Wonder Bread, etc.). Also those storebought English muffins which never go bad because they are full of preservatives.
11. When leftovers go bad in the refrigerator.
12. Using spit to clean things

Pillow Book 1: Things to Look Forward to

2010-11-29T00:54:00.004-05:00

Here's a good one for everybody who loves lists. I've wanted to do a Pillow Book for some time. Sei Shonagon's Pillow Book is described as "a collection of lists, gossip, poetry, observations, complaints and anyting else she found of interest during her years in court." I have a copy of Shonagon's book floating around my house somewhere. I need to find it. I remember what I liked most were her lists. Another name for this kind of book is a Zuihitsu. I've ordered a Zuihitsu called Hōjōki.

I like lists (particularly poetic lists) but find them a little difficult to do, so I think it will be a good excercize for me. I want to generate at least five things each time. I can also go back and add things as I think of them. My first topic:

THINGS TO LOOK FORWARD TO

1. Allen in the truck, waiting to take me home from work
2. The first snow
3. Settling into a hot bath
4. Toads' songs, spring
5. Return of buzzards to Ohio, spring
6. Pączki

Here's a partial list from Shonagon's book that I found online. I especially like the last one.

[From a list of "things that give you pleasure":]

You've read the first volume of a tale you hadn't come across before, and are longing to go on with it --- then you find the other volume. The rest of it can sometimes turn out to be disappointing, however....
It's also wonderfully pleasing when you're in a large company of people in the presence of someone great, and she's talking, either about something in the past or on a matter she's only just heard about, some topic of the moment, and as she speaks, it's you she singles out to look at.....
When a poem that you've composed for some event, or in a exchange of poems, is talked of by everyone and noted down when they hear it. This hasn't happened to me personally, but I can imagine how it would feel....
When someone you don't like meets with some misfortune, you're pleased even though you know this is wicked of you.

Haiku #385

2010-11-28T18:30:00.000-05:00

yellow cat
walking tenderly
over the briars

Haiku #384

2010-11-28T18:29:00.000-05:00

two lazy flies
loop-the-loop
Thanksgiving day

Strange Hotel

2010-11-03T16:43:00.001-04:00

This post is part of an ongoing effort to make sense of my dreams:

I was in a strange city, staying in a beautiful hotel. My room was beautiful, but suddenly I had two roommates. They were young women, and talkative. I left the room to get some peace. I went outside. My husband and youngest son, Brian were there. Brian was about twelve. We all decided to go for a walk to a playground. The playground was down a long gravel road. We stopped short because we saw a baby crocodile walking up the road. There was another animal in the bushes, very large. In the dream we called it a badger, but I don't know what it was. To the right were homes, and I heard a mother calling a young child. I thought, what a dangerous place for children.

The part that I left out: When I first entered the room, there was a beautiful young African-American woman on my bed. She was masturbating. I shouldn't have left this part out, because I think it says something about vitality. I was talking about vitality in one of my classes that day. And, symbolically, sex is vitality.

Also, I had shown The Power of Myth to my Imaginative Writing class. Afterwards, my friend Sally and I had talked about mothering by example, showing children how to be compassionate in a world that is sometimes dangerous and cruel. Sally and I had also talked about vitality. About participating fully in the world, as Joseph Campbell discusses in Power of Myth.

Haiku #383

2010-10-23T00:23:00.001-04:00

a late snack
rattle
of an evening train

Haiku #382

2010-10-22T22:14:00.000-04:00

a still night
the mouse trap rattles
then doesn't

Haiku #381

2010-10-22T22:13:00.000-04:00

his illness
her beloved flower beds
gone to weeds

Haiku #380

2010-10-22T22:12:00.001-04:00

hunger
a cat meets me
after my long day at work

Haiku #379

2010-10-22T22:08:00.000-04:00

not good as the last one
a slice of pie
after a bad day

Haiku #378

2010-10-22T22:06:00.002-04:00

shutting a book
a pause
before turning out the light

Haiku #377

2010-10-22T22:05:00.000-04:00

not yet too cold
brown field
a buzzard soars

Haiku #376

2010-10-22T22:02:00.000-04:00

full moon and rabbits
late night trip to the woodpile
the dog comes along

Haiku #375

2010-10-22T22:00:00.000-04:00

October 21
the strangeness
of leaves still green

Haiku #374

2010-10-22T21:59:00.000-04:00

autumn wind--
in the waving of the grass
my whole life

Haiku #373

2010-10-20T23:50:00.000-04:00

we hurry home
to drink it warm
first jug of cider

Haiku #372

2010-10-11T23:44:00.001-04:00

a day at the lake
all the long way home
smell of wet dog

Haiku #371

2010-10-11T23:40:00.000-04:00

lake's edge
a rotting fish
we carry the chairs further

Haiku #370

2010-10-11T23:39:00.000-04:00

tense situation--
fingering lint
inside the pocket

Haiku #369

2010-10-11T17:19:00.000-04:00

at the river
twilight
a ragged line of gulls

Haiku #368

2010-10-11T17:15:00.000-04:00

there in the graveyard
trees
autumn's first blush

Haiku #367

2010-10-09T15:28:00.000-04:00

a light left on
pale moths flutter up
the outside pane

Haiku #366

2010-10-06T21:09:00.000-04:00

no spider
just a bit of milkweed fluff
in the web

Haiku #365

2010-10-04T19:37:00.000-04:00

trash burning--
tall flames
in the weak October light

Haiku #364

2010-10-04T00:52:00.002-04:00

taking a shortcut--
the sadness of an orchard
that bore no fruit

Haiku #363

2010-10-03T19:27:00.000-04:00

stirring against
a pink October sunset
dark leaves

Haiku #362

2010-10-02T18:48:00.000-04:00

warming myself
first wood fire of the season
cold October rain

Haiku #361

2010-09-29T17:16:00.000-04:00

looking for a book--
cat near the end of its life
passes by the window

Found

2010-09-29T15:48:00.000-04:00

I was looking for a certain book today and found an old stationary box that I had kept because of its whimsical drawing. The theme of the stationary was "The Art of Dreams," and I remember using that paper, sending letters to friends, picking out just the right image for each friend. The box was crushed and I wondered if I should throw it away. On impulse I looked inside and found a single note, written in purple ink. I suddenly remembered this student always wrote in purple. What struck me was the date and time of the note, its brevity, and its fullness in what it managed to say:

12-24-03

10:33 p.m.

Theresa--

A lot has happened lately...J. & I are divorced, I have a house and a regular Tradesmen Job??? Who woulda thunk it...

I'd love to talk w/ u ...

heart-- A.
[address]

Haiku #360

2010-09-25T13:34:00.000-04:00

first autumn wind
finds
the dead leaves

Haiku #359

2010-09-25T13:04:00.000-04:00

first autumn wind
warmer
than expected

Haiku #358

2010-09-22T21:53:00.001-04:00

to leave in May
missing again the poppies
in bloom

Haiku #357

2010-09-22T17:08:00.000-04:00

insect husk
wrapped in a filament
from the broken web

Haiku #356

2010-09-22T16:19:00.000-04:00

first day of autumn
the grass
seems more brittle

Haiku #355

2010-09-22T16:06:00.000-04:00

quiet afternoon--
our dog barks
at a garter snake

Haiku #354

2010-09-22T15:51:00.002-04:00

the striped cat
not in his usual place
beside the door

Haiku #353

2010-09-22T15:44:00.000-04:00

over my head
compost weeds
bending in the wind

Haiku #352

2010-09-22T15:19:00.000-04:00

my cat
looks at me
night owl in the maple

Haiku #351

2010-09-18T16:58:00.000-04:00

hurrying
from my footfall
tiny butterflies

Haiku #350

2010-09-18T16:57:00.000-04:00

fallen
with the pears
an empty nest

Haiku #349

2010-09-15T19:46:00.000-04:00

both pink
the ham in her sandwich
her young face

Haiku #348

2010-09-13T13:36:00.000-04:00

white hens
dashing in and out
of the cornstalks

Haiku #347

2010-09-12T13:04:00.000-04:00

autumn day
Issa's motherless sparrow
in the long grass

Haiku #346

2010-09-12T13:03:00.002-04:00

Issa,
give me the patience
of Issa

Haiku #345

2010-09-12T13:02:00.001-04:00

Sunday shoppers
their reflections on the street
their umbrellas

Haiku #344

2010-09-11T21:06:00.000-04:00

toad in the rain
so much like the wet bark
of the aspen

Today and Yesterday

2010-09-11T02:22:00.000-04:00

A Productive Couple of Days

1. Two acceptances
2. Revised and submitted three new poems
3. Started new project, tentatively called Everwhere Else It Was the Sixties
4. Put together a chapbook of poems, possibly to submit in the near future
5. Finished a new creative nonfiction piece

Words

2010-09-06T16:33:00.000-04:00

Edward Thomas is one of my favorite poets of the Modern era. He's often lumped in with the "war poets" of that time, and he could write convincingly of ugliness and despair. But it's a sweet poem, "Words" that brings me to Thomas today.

It's natural for writers to reflect on the sources of their inspiration. Few have done it as gently and honestly as Thomas has here. He speaks directly to "Words," not cajoling or begging or feeling sorry for himself. He simply asks for the blessing to be able to say what he needs to say.

In speaking of writing, we often say that we "use" words. It's as though words are a resource not unlike the oil we pump from the bottom of the ocean. After reading Thomas's poem, the idea of "using" words seems coarse. Thomas says the word "use," too, but, ah, it's the way he says it in conjunction with "choose" which has about it a sweet whiff of grace.

It's good to remind ourselves where it all begins, in the kind of glory that Thomas shows in his poem "Words," in the humility Thomas expresses, in his love for the words that patiently give themselves to us.

Words

Out of us all
That make rhymes
Will you choose
Sometimes -
As the winds use
A crack in a wall
Or a drain,
Their joy or their pain
To whistle through -
Choose me,
You English words?

I know you:
You are light as dreams,
Tough as oak,
Precious as gold,
As poppies and corn,
Or an old cloak:
Sweet as our birds
To the ear,
As the burnet rose
In the heat
Of Midsummer:
Strange as the races
Of dead and unborn:
Strange and sweet
Equally,
And familiar,
To the eye,
As the dearest faces
that a man knows,
And as lost homes are:
But though older far
Than oldest yew, -
As our hills are, old, -
Worn new
Again and again:
Young as our streams
After rain:
And as dear
As the earth which you prove
That we love.

Make me content
With some sweetness
From Wales
Whose nightingales
Have no wings, -
From Wiltshire and Kent
And Herefordshire, -
And the villages there, -
From the names, and the things
No less.
Let me sometimes dance
With you,
Or climb
Or stand perchance
In ecstasy,
Fixed and free
In a rhyme,
As poets do.

Edward Thomas

New Publications

2010-09-03T21:38:00.001-04:00

I've had some new publications recently:

A short story
"The World in Red" in The Sun Magazine

Three haibun
"Memorial Day" in Contemporary Haibun Online
"Cairo, Illinois" in Haibun Today
"Spring Passage, May..." in Notes from the Gean

You can read an excerpt of "The World in Red" by clicking on the link above.

Bruce Ross, one of the editors of Contemporary Haibun Online, chose "Memorial Day" as his commentary piece. Drop by to read what he says.

"Cairo, Illinois" is based on my Ohio River River journey of 2005. Friends of this blog will remember my preparations and hopes for that journey. It is only now starting to yield results in my writing.
What to do with this little blog? It's gone through so many incarnations. I think from now on I'll be publishing less original poetry. I have another (private) blog I've set up for the purpose of organizing and archiving poems and another for haiku. This one will probably revert back to writing about process and experience in my world of teaching and writing. Some photographs and art from time to time.

To the future.

Haiku #343

2010-08-16T20:27:00.000-04:00

in the field
mole darting across our path
in its summer coat

Haiku #342

2010-08-13T21:55:00.000-04:00

riverbank at night
a campfire
my cold arms

Haiku #341

2010-08-13T21:52:00.000-04:00

riverbank at night
a figure passing by
a lighted window

Haiku #340

2010-08-13T21:50:00.000-04:00

my husband stands there
keeping sun from the parking
attendant's eyes

Haiku #339

2010-08-12T20:42:00.001-04:00

these quiet
rooms not even crickets
dogs

Haiku #338

2010-08-12T17:56:00.001-04:00

happy where they are
white phlox
among thistle

Haiku #337

2010-08-12T17:12:00.001-04:00

a day alone
insect husks on the trunk
of the aspen

Haiku #336

2010-08-11T17:35:00.000-04:00

panting dogs
heads going up and down
in the grass

Haiku #335

2010-08-11T17:34:00.000-04:00

curious goats
the man who feeds them
sharpens the knife

Haiku #334

2010-08-11T17:33:00.000-04:00

summer tourists
each man outdoing the other
telling about his job

Haiku #333

2010-08-11T15:47:00.000-04:00

late summer
butterfly
tasting fallen blossoms

Haiku #332

2010-08-11T01:14:00.000-04:00

wishing for rain--
hot wind in the aspens
sounds like rain

Haiku #331

2010-08-09T18:47:00.001-04:00

falling off
as the cat walks away
a dead summer leaf

Haiku #330

2010-08-08T23:10:00.000-04:00

a hot evening
too much of everything
mosquitoes and grass

Haiku #329

2010-08-08T22:44:00.001-04:00

dirt pile
a shovel stands in it
all by itself

Haiku #328

2010-08-07T20:44:00.000-04:00

Chimayo:
only a fly
in church

Haiku #327

2010-08-07T18:08:00.003-04:00

a spot of shade
our dogs waiting there
to be let inside

Haiku #326

2010-08-07T16:24:00.000-04:00

stretches a long time
on its way to the food bowl:
yellow cat

Haiku #325

2010-08-07T16:22:00.001-04:00

in the ancient church
the sound of a fly buzzing
from an unknown place

Haiku #324

2010-08-07T16:19:00.000-04:00

a quiet boat ride
an egret flies over us
toward the shade

Haiku #323

2010-08-06T22:49:00.000-04:00

lily pads
the wind picks them up
I hold onto my straw hat

Haiku #322

2010-08-02T13:37:00.000-04:00

Sitting on the porch in the afternoon:

miserable heat
above, sweet call of the wren
we still complain

Haiku #321

2010-07-30T22:13:00.001-04:00

Sitting outside on a summer evening, I spend time with
Buson. At the edge of the field, two red butterflies.

hard to make them out
through the blur
of reading glasses

Haiku #320

2010-07-30T17:37:00.000-04:00

a tiny beetle
walks across Issa's haiku:
"life is cruel, cruel, cruel"

Haiku #319

2010-07-30T17:34:00.000-04:00

my journal's blank pages--
dreaming of a murdered deer
two nights in a row

Haiku #318

2010-07-30T17:31:00.000-04:00

on a highwire
mourning dove soaked with warm rain
I long for autumn

Haiku #317

2010-07-30T17:28:00.000-04:00

mountain overlook:
names carved on a rusty rail
the empty sky

Haiku #316

2010-07-30T15:01:00.000-04:00

the long shadows
Ryokan writing poems
in his loneliness

Haiku #315

2010-07-30T14:46:00.000-04:00

taken all my life
to enjoy the robin's call
this summer evening

Haiku #314

2010-07-30T14:30:00.000-04:00

you only hear them
when the cicadas cease--
evening crickets

Last of July

2010-07-30T01:18:00.000-04:00

Summer deepens.
The drone of cicadas--
I can barely think.
A butterfly keeps beating
against the white shed.
The hot evening sun.
Cats hiss at each other
near the food bowl.
The dogs watch the driveway,
awaiting your return.

Haiku #313

2010-07-29T20:43:00.000-04:00

lifting the nozzle
to spray the dogs--
I can't resist

First Fire

2010-07-29T17:18:00.000-04:00

Turkey buzzards soar above the field.
Last year I saw them flying south.
Their bodies looked heavy against the cold sky.
That same day, we brought the first wood
into the house to make a fire.

Haiku #312

2010-07-29T01:58:00.000-04:00

sad, unending rain:
two white swans swim together
enjoying themselves

Haiku #311

2010-07-28T23:21:00.000-04:00

sad thoughts
Queen Anne's lace bobbing
in the rain

Haiku #310

2010-07-27T03:19:00.000-04:00

three a.m.
even the house cricket
is sleeping

Haiku #309

2010-07-16T15:11:00.002-04:00

little butterfly
lights on a cat's tattered ear
summer afternoon

Haiku #308

2010-07-16T14:57:00.002-04:00

white butterfly:
walking into the birdbath
toward the water

Haiku #307

2010-05-29T21:11:00.000-04:00

minnows part
before the swimming duckling
close back in behind

New Haibun

2010-05-29T02:45:00.000-04:00

A new haibun published in Haibun Today: "All Night and Day."
Click on the link to read it.

Haiku #306

2010-05-25T16:12:00.000-04:00

sitting outside
watching leaf-shadows dance
on the white plywood

Haiku #305

2010-05-23T15:33:00.002-04:00

a dog is barking
from the safety of a truck
at a horse statue